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Wild Once Again
by Mr. Robinson (yankee3@tarmail.com)

***

A white lie leads to a red hot night. (MMF, wife, voy)

***

Life, they say, is what happens to you while you are 
making other plans. That's what happened to Barbara and 
I last Friday night when we were planning a quiet night 
at home.

We were headed home after a nice dinner at a local 
steakhouse. I had the New York Strip and Barbara had a 
rack of ribs. If you knew her, you'd raise an eyebrow 
at that. She's five-foot-three, and while she's not as 
willowy as she once was, she has stayed trim and toned 
through the years.

But her eyes have always been bigger than her stomach. 
Or in her words, "If a little is good, more is better." 
So we toted the better half of the rack of ribs home 
with us in a little foil-lined bag that rode on the 
seat between us. More would be better for lunch 
tomorrow.

This is what passed for a night out for us in recent 
years. Time was when we danced and drank and partied 
with the best of them. Matter of fact, I met her in a 
little bar shooting pool, a passion we shared but had 
not indulged for far too long. That night, we drank too 
much, danced too close and couldn't even wait to get 
back to my house to make love for the first time.

Now, ten years later, car payments, a mortgage and two 
demanding careers left us content to enjoy a fine 
dinner and head home by ten to curl up on the couch or 
in bed with an HBO movie. We didn't find it dull or 
boring, but we had definitely settled into a routine 
that included little beyond ourselves and our home. It 
seemed our wild days were just memories that we 
sometimes conjured as fantasies during lovemaking.

So, it caught me by surprise when she saw the sign 
outside a dance club advertising "Live Music," and 
said, "Let's see who's playing."

It shouldn't have surprised me, she has always been the 
impetuous one, but it had been a while since I'd seen 
that side of her. I, on the other hand, usually had to 
be dragged kicking and screaming into adventures that I 
never regretted.

"Come on, it'll be fun," she said. "It's been so long 
since we've gone out. We need to have a little fun."

"I don't know," I said. "It's getting late and I don't 
know if I really feel like dancing right now."

"Please," she said, scooting across the seat. She laid 
her right hand on my thigh and pushed herself up to 
lightly flick my ear with her tongue and whispered, 
"Remember, Key West."

Damn, she was persuasive. I didn't feel so tired 
anymore and spun the car around in the next driveway 
and headed back toward The Roadhouse Café.

Key West was a Christmas present to ourselves the year 
before we got married. It was the benchmark vacation 
against which all others were measured - and they 
always fell short - and the benchmark for personal 
debauchery. It was a week of sex and drugs and rock-
and-roll that reached its pinnacle at Hog's Breath on 
New Years Eve. Barbara drank too much, danced topless 
in the teeming crowd and climbed one of the towers next 
to the stage to dance alone five feet above the floor. 
When one of the bouncers climbed up to get her down, 
she tried to dissuade him by throwing her arms around 
his neck and french-kissing him while her nearly-naked 
body writhed against him. He obviously enjoyed delaying 
the inevitable for a few moments, and when he finally 
made her climb down the disappointed crowd booed .

We finally left at 3 a.m. and filled the rest of the 
time before our 6:30 a.m. flight with nearly non-stop 
sex. We climbed on the plane exhausted, hung over and 
bleary-eyed. Even if we could turn the clock back, I 
don't think we could wring as much hedonistic delight 
out of another vacation.

My attitude was definitely better when I pulled the car 
into the club's parking lot. There were plenty of 
spaces. Ten may have been late for me these days, but 
the club crowd was just waking up.

The place was still half-empty when we walked in and 
the band hadn't yet taken the stage. A jukebox pumped 
out rock tunes, but the small parquet dance floor in 
front of the stage was empty, as were most of the 
tables that surrounded it. But the bar was full. All 
but a couple of the stools at the long wooden bar were 
filled with men who seemed to take their drinking 
seriously. A clot of men and women huddled around the 
pinball and video game machines. But there was no pool 
table. Damn.

The crowd was young, by that I mean, at least ten years 
younger than we were. And the men outnumbered the women 
two-to-one. It was early yet, I thought.

Heads turned and eyes followed our every step as we 
made our way to a small table near the dance floor. 
Were we the only strangers in a bar full of regulars? 
Or was it because I was a jacket-and-tie in a room full 
of Tommy jeans and pullovers? Or was it Barbara?

She may have been ten years older than everyone in the 
place, but she doesn't look her age. Sometimes she 
still gets asked for ID. She is trim and firm and sexy, 
but even more, she has a young attitude. Tonight it 
radiated from her. Her eyes had a glint of excitement 
that flashed in anticipation of having some fun. There 
was nothing old about her.

If that wasn't enough, she was the classiest woman in 
the place. She had worn her new black leather suit to 
dinner. She loved the soft, buttery feel of leather on 
her skin. It made her feel as sexy as she looked. When 
she bought the suit, she got two skirts, one longer and 
more modest, more business-like, the other shorter and 
sexier. She had worn the short one tonight and it 
exposed her shapely tan legs whose curves were 
accentuated by high-heeled pumps.

The skirt was as tight as it was short. It fit her like 
a second skin. Between the skirt and the heels, she had 
to walk in short mincing steps that showed off her 
tight, round bottom in a way that was surely both 
delight and torment for every guy in the place.

It was definitely Barbara they were watching.

Nonetheless, when we got to the table I pulled off my 
tie and folded it into my jacket pocket and hung the 
sports coat over the back of my chair. That's better. I 
may still be button down, but I won't feel quite so out 
of place. 

When I looked up again, I saw Barbara headed for the 
bar to get a couple of drinks. That was Barbara. She 
didn't stand on chivalry. She was a modern woman, a 
feminist, if you will. She had a good job, worked hard 
and was proud of it. She paid for dinners as often as I 
did. She wanted to be an equal partner, and that suited 
me fine. I enjoyed her spirit and her independence. I 
didn't even mind that she had never worn her wedding 
ring since the ceremony.

She said that men treated married women different at 
work, that they never took them seriously. She didn't 
want to be patronized or dismissed because she was 
married. She wasn't someone's wife, she was who she 
was, bright, articulate, aggressive and hardworking. 
That's how she wanted to be judged.

I wasn't sure I agreed with all that but I did know it 
changed the way men treated her outside work. She 
attracted them like honey draws bees. And that suited 
her, too. She liked getting attention and enjoyed the 
effect she had on men, especially when they would get 
all flustered and tongue-tied when they were trying to 
impress her. 

I remember her laughing about one guy who saw her as he 
was getting out of his car at a convenience store. He 
tried to be suave but dropped his keys and bumped his 
head on the car door when he bent over to pick them up. 
His sheepish smile and nervous greeting fell short of 
his intentions. She said it was cute.

Attention is what she was getting at the bar. As she 
raised her left leg to climb onto an open stool between 
two groups of guys, her little skirt rode up and 
exposed a long expanse of her right thigh. The guy next 
to her didn't miss the show. And when she leaned over 
the bar to order, the bartender saw only the flash of 
cleavage her low-cut linen blouse revealed. He never 
even saw her flashing emerald green eyes.

While he got the drinks, Barbara talked with the guys 
at the bar and soon was laughing at their jokes and 
chatting animatedly. Even after she got the drinks, she 
lingered a bit to finish her conversation, then 
sauntered back to our table with several sets of eyes 
glued to her every step.

"They say the band is pretty good," she said handing me 
a tumbler of bourbon and taking a sip of her scotch. 
"They do a lot of stuff from the '70s and '80s. The guy 
on keyboards is supposed to be very good and they do a 
lot of Billy Joel stuff."

She was delighted at that. She's a big Billy Joel fan. 
We would know soon. The band was getting ready to 
start.

We drank and talked a bit, but soon were drowned out by 
the music. So we just listened for a while. After a 
couple of tunes, she pulled me up to dance. I balked a 
little - no one else was on the dance floor yet - and 
then relented.

I was more than a little self-conscious and hardly 
rhythmic, but that had never mattered to Barbara. She 
just loved to dance and she moved to the music as 
though she were alone in the world. By the time the 
next number started, I loosened up a bit as two other 
couples stepped out and two girls danced together at 
the edge of the floor.

By the end of the third number Barbara was tired and a 
little winded so we made our way back to the table. We 
both drained our glasses and I headed to the bar to get 
another round. The place was filling up quickly now. 
Most of the tables were filled and there was a crowd 
around the bar trying to get drinks. I elbowed my way 
through to a little space at the bar and waited with 
empty glasses and money on the bar. But I didn't get 
the attention that Barbara had.

As I waited, I watched Barbara at the table. She 
slipped off the leather jacket and laid it across an 
empty chair and sat down to listen to the band. It 
wasn't long before first one and then another guy 
approached her, obviously asking her to dance. I could 
see her smile and shake her head.

"Bad timing, guys, let her catch her breath," I 
thought.

Then the crowd around the bar thickened and I lost 
sight of her, so I turned back to try to flag down one 
of the busy bartenders.

The band had played two or three more numbers by the 
time I got the drinks and headed back to the table. I 
kept my attention on the brimming full glasses as I 
jostled through the crowd. I was nearly back to the 
table when I noticed she was gone.

I quickly scanned the dance floor before sitting down 
and spotted her easily even though dancers now crowded 
the small area in front of the band. Her movements were 
sinuous and fluid. She had abandoned footwork for a 
mildly suggestive swivel and sway that emphasized her 
delicious bottom and ample breasts. She danced with 
knees loosely bent and legs slightly spread to help 
balance on the heels. The tight skirt had begun to inch 
up drawing the hem higher on her well-toned and tanned 
thighs. What a vision!

"She's feeling the scotch," I thought. It never took 
much with her and we seldom drank these days. Alcohol 
always loosened her up and its effects were apparent as 
she danced with little inhibition.

I looked for her partner. With all the people out there 
it was hard to tell who she was dancing with until a 
tall, blond guy in khakis and a baggy blue pullover 
moved closer as she began to roll and pump her hips to 
the bass line. He caught her eye and she looked up at 
him with sly smile and added some emphasis to her 
thrusts.

She likes him, I thought.

When the song ended, he hugged her and she relaxed in 
his arms and hugged him back. Then she grabbed his hand 
and led him back to our table.

As they approached, I could see that he was handsome, 
in a rugged way, and even his baggy pullover couldn't 
conceal his well-muscled arms and chest or his slender 
waist. He could have held her in one hand, but he 
followed her picking his way through the crowd as she 
pulled him along by his hand.

As he took a seat across from me, Barbara leaned over 
and shouted something in my ear. But even so near, she 
couldn't compete with the band and I couldn't make it 
all out. Something about him asking her to dance. Two 
things did get through. She thought he was cute and she 
thought he was hot, the last communicated by a little 
pinched expression of approval that seemed to say, 
"Oooooo," and a little shake of her hand as though she 
touched something sizzling.

Then she sat down and started to make an introduction, 
but I waved her off. It was just too loud, we could 
wait for the break. Then she took a sip of her scotch 
and turned to him and raised the glass with a 
questioning expression. He nodded and she got up to buy 
him a drink.

As she made her way to the bar, the bandleader 
announced they were going to take a break and the bar 
quieted.

I stuck out my hand and reached across the table. "I'm 
Stan," I said.

"Chad," he replied returning the handshake with a firm 
grip and a small smile as he sized me up. When his eyes 
fell on my left hand, the smile faded a bit and he 
released his grip. He was thinking: A married guy with 
a hot, unmarried woman at a rock bar on a Friday 
night...

"I didn't know you guys were together," he started. 
"She was sitting here alone when I asked her to dance. 
I, I..."

I was amused.

I smiled broadly and laughed at bit. "Don't worry. It's 
OK. She loves to dance and I love to see her enjoying 
herself." 

He relaxed a bit, but still looked nervous, though not 
nervous enough to leave before she returned with his 
drink.

Then an unexpected idea flashed through my head. It 
must have been the bourbon, but I was the one feeling 
impetuous and mischievous now. She was enjoying herself 
and enjoying Chad's attention and it was too soon for 
it to end. She would be disappointed. If I wanted to 
enjoy her later, it would be better if she wasn't 
disappointed.

I leaned across the table so I wouldn't have to shout 
and looked directly into his deep blue eyes.

"It's not what you think," I began.

"What do you mean?" he asked tensing again.

"Barbara is my sister," I lied. "She's down visiting 
from New York."

Chad relaxed immediately and he listened closely as I 
went on.

"She just got her divorce," I said making it up as I 
went along. "After more than two years of fighting and 
arguing with that bastard in court, she wanted a 
vacation so she came down to spend a couple of weeks 
with me. Sort of a celebration.

"It is good for her to finally have some fun," I said. 
"She's a great woman and deserves better than she's 
had. It's been a rough couple of years." 

Chad brightened and I could see the wheels beginning to 
spin in his head, and then I added:

"I don't think she's even been out with anyone since 
this whole thing started," I said, "so I was really 
happy to see you two dancing out there. I was afraid 
that bastard had put her off men altogether."

"Well, I don't think that happened." Chad replied, 
smiling and winking. "Did you see her out there?"

Suddenly, we were co-conspirators and on our way to 
being best buddies. No doubt he was thinking that if he 
could win over Big Brother, Sis wouldn't be far behind.

About then Barbara returned with his drink and another 
for herself. Mine was still full so she hadn't 
bothered. I couldn't believe how quickly she could get 
served.

She slipped into her chair and turned to Chad and put 
out her hand.

"By the way, I'm Barbara."

"I know," Chad said. "Your brother has been telling me 
all about you."

Barbara shot me a look both withering and quizzical and 
I gave her a small smile in return. I would let her 
figure out what it meant.

"He has, has he?" she said. "Nothing too bad, I hope?"

"Not at all," Chad said. "He only has good things to 
say about you."

Before the conversation could get much further, the 
first notes of the next set broke from the stage and 
after a few bars, Chad tugged Barbara up for another 
dance. She gulped down her scotch and headed toward the 
floor. As they left, Chad gave me a smile and a knowing 
look and then turned to follow her, his eyes riveted on 
her bottom, rippling and rolling beneath the black 
leather skirt.

They danced with greater abandon now, close and 
suggestive. Barbara's moves were becoming more 
primitive and Chad grew bolder, bumping and rubbing her 
body as they spun and circled each other. By now the 
dance floor was thick with people and I could only see 
Barbara and Chad in glimpses as the crowd parted and 
closed in waves. I sipped my drink and watched.

After a while their dance carried them to the near edge 
of the floor and I was fascinated by what I saw. 
Barbara's moves had become raw and primal, no longer 
merely suggestive. Her hips swiveled and thrust above 
parted legs in purely carnal motion. Her eyes were 
glued to Chad's and her smile was gone, replaced by an 
almost snarling expression of lust. It wasn't an 
invitation; it was a dare.

He responded by moving still closer. He placed a foot 
between hers so their legs would touch as they danced 
and each of her now frantic thrusts bumped against his 
thigh. He matched her motions in perfect rhythm. Thrust 
and withdraw. Thrust and withdraw. Her hands were 
raised above her head and pumping with each thrust. His 
reached out, slowly and lightly tracing her swaying 
body from her upper arms to her hips and back again. As 
the song reached its climax, Barbara inched even 
closer, her hips now moving in small circles, an 
insistent grind on the thigh now planted well between 
her legs.

When the song ended she collapsed in his arms, laughing 
and puffing at the exertion. He pulled her close and 
held her tightly as she caught her breath. After a few 
moments, he bent his head to her ear and said something 
and when she looked up at him, he covered her mouth 
with his and kissed her deeply.

Barbara responded by reaching up and encircling his 
neck with her hands and pulling herself up on tiptoes, 
returned the kiss. Even from where I was sitting I 
could sense the urgency of her kiss. Her hands moved 
over his neck and tangled in his thick locks, pulling 
his head down and closer as her lips devoured his. I 
knew her tongue was snaking into his mouth, yearning 
and searching for his.

Chad pulled her closer to him, crushing her against his 
chest with his left arm around her back. His right hand 
reached down to first cup her buttocks and then to lift 
her closer to his lips. The boost freed Barbara's hands 
and she slid them to his cheeks. She held his face in 
her hands as she continued the wanton kiss.

When they finally broke, Barbara's hands flew back 
around his neck and hugged him tightly cheek to cheek. 
She was out of breath again.

As they loosened their grip and Barbara's feet slipped 
firmly back to the floor, the band started a slow 
number. With her hands still wrapped around Chad's 
neck, she began to sway to the music. They danced 
crushed together with a slow rocking motion as they 
explored each other's bodies with light caresses. Chad 
would nuzzle Barbara, leaving tender kisses on her 
cheek and brow and she would stretch to brush his cheek 
with her lips or nibble lightly on his lower lip. 

When the song ended, they broke the embrace and headed 
off the dance floor. Barbara wobbled a bit - too much 
scotch or a little weak in the knees? - as she walked 
back toward our table while Chad made his way to the 
bar.

"What the hell did you tell him?" Barbara asked when 
she got to the table.

"A little white lie," I answered, smiling. "He got a 
little weird when he thought we were together, and I 
didn't want to spoil your fun. I could tell you were 
enjoying the attention. So I set his mind at ease."

"Well, it worked," she said. "He was all over me out 
there."

"I could see, but I didn't notice much objection," I 
teased. "As a matter of fact, I..."

Barbara glanced over to find Chad at the bar and then 
looked back at me and moved closer.

"He got me so hot," she said. "Ohhh, I could have 
fucked him right there in front of everyone."

"We don't get out enough," I replied.

She laughed at my little joke and said, "No, we don't." 

She glanced back at the bar again and then looked me in 
the eyes.

"Stan."

"Yes."

"I know we've talked about this, but..." she said 
pausing.

"Yes?"

"Would you mind..." and she paused again.

"What?"

"I want to fuck him."

"I'm not surprised."

"I'm so hot," Barbara pleaded. "He's so damn hot. I 
haven't even thought about another man since we've been 
together, but he just got me so hot. And it's all your 
fault anyway. I wouldn't be in this state, if it 
weren't for you."

"Okay."

"What?"

"I said okay."

"Are you sure? It would just be this once. It's just 
sex."

"Yes, I'm sure," I replied. "It got me pretty hot, too, 
watching the two of you dancing. The thought of you in 
bed with him is getting me even hotter now."

"Are you sure? You're not mad, are you? I don't want to 
do anything to hurt you. Or us."

"I'm sure," I said, "but when you're done, you have to 
tell me everything and then I'm going to fuck you until 
you can't stand up."

Barbara threw her arms around my neck and hugged me 
until I could hardly breathe."

"Thank you, I love you so much."

She broke the hug quickly and sat down. She didn't want 
Chad to catch her in such an unsisterly pose.

Chad pulled his chair closer to Barbara as he sat down 
and slid my drink across the table. He lifted his glass 
and offered a toast that was lost in the music. I 
raised my glass, smiled as though I understood and took 
a long pull of the bourbon. Then he turned his 
attention to Barbara. They leaned close to each other, 
talking and laughing. I had a ringside seat to the 
seduction of my wife and wanted to watch every detail, 
but that would have been awkward, so I watched the 
dancers and listened to the music. 

But I didn't miss much. As they talked Chad touched her 
fingers with his and now and again would nibble at her 
ear lobe when he leaned over to say something. Barbara 
alternately looked shocked or coy, but deeper in her 
eyes something smoldered.

The two of them were lost in their own little world and 
they drew closer and closer until Barbara had snuggled 
under his arm with her head on his shoulder.

Then I noticed a little hitch in her breath, a small 
gasp, followed by a small sigh. Her eyes closed and she 
shifted a bit in her seat. One of Chad's hands had 
disappeared and I was sure it was busy between my 
wife's legs, caressing her thighs beneath the hem of 
that short skirt. A flush spread across her cheeks and 
her breathing quickened as she opened her eyes and 
fixed him with a gaze that seemed to say, "Not here, 
not now... but soon."

She pushed his hand away and straightened up. Then she 
leaned across the table to me and said, "I can't wait 
much longer."

At the next break, Chad said something to Barbara and 
started to get up. She nodded and leaned over to tell 
me, "He wants to leave. He wants me to go home with 
him. Are you really sure it's okay?"

I looked up at Chad, digging in his pockets for his car 
keys and swaying a bit on unsteady legs.

"I don't think that's such a good idea," I told 
Barbara. "Get his keys."

Her face dissolved in disappointment.

Then I turned to Chad and asked, "Are you sure you're 
okay to drive? You've been knocking back those scotches 
pretty heavy."

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he answered.

"I'm sure you are," I humored him. "But why take the 
chance. You know how the cops watch this place."

"No, really, I'm okay," he said.

"Tell you what," I offered, "why don't you come home 
with us. We've got plenty of room and I'll bring you 
back tomorrow to get your car."

Barbara brightened and stepped between us. She said 
something to Chad. His resistance seemed to melt and 
after considering for a moment he agreed.

We gathered our things and headed for the car. Barbara 
and Chad walked arm in arm and I felt a twinge of 
jealousy stabbing at my heart as I walked alone beside 
them.

Chad shoehorned himself into the Acura's back seat. It 
was never really meant for an adult, much less one of 
his stature. When Barbara got in and slid the 
passenger's seat forward, he settled in, hunching 
between the front seats. His face filled the rearview 
mirror and was just inches from Barbara's.

As I pulled onto the highway, Chad craned forward and 
tried to kiss Barbara, but even as she turned to meet 
him, the angle was cramped and awkward.

"Wait a minute," she told him, and lowered the seat 
back to its reclining position.

"That's better," she said, reaching up for Chad and 
pulling his face to hers. He twisted to face her and 
reached across her as he leaned into the kiss. Soon she 
was moaning softly into his mouth and biting his lips 
as the passion she had barely restrained at the 
Roadhouse was unleashed.

Chad twisted still more to balance himself and free his 
hand. He was facing away from me now, focused only on 
my wife and her ravening mouth. His hand now cupped her 
right breast through the linen blouse.

Barbara arched to meet his hand and wriggled beneath 
him trying to increase the contact between them and to 
press her lips tighter to his as their dancing tongues 
awakened still deeper needs.

I wanted to watch them but had to settle for glimpses 
in the rearview and an occasional peek. Chad had worked 
his hand under Barbara's blouse and, from the whimpers 
of delight now emanating from my wife, under her bra as 
well. I marveled at the thought of her hot nipple 
burning into the palm of his hand.

I had to get home soon or I was going to drive off the 
road. A live sex show would have been distracting 
enough, but the sight of my wife so wantonly giving 
herself to Chad beside me fired a raging lust within 
me.

I dropped my right hand to her knee. Her flesh was hot 
and I could feel her muscles tensing and releasing as 
she squirmed beneath our caresses. I slid my hand up 
her leg, along her exposed thighs. The tiny skirt had 
bunched up beneath her and my hand easily found the 
juncture of her thighs, now hot and wet.

Barbara let out a low, deep groan as my fingers found 
their goal. She had often fantasized about her having 
sex with two men and the thought never failed to 
heighten her excitement. Now the reality was doing the 
same.

Barbara bucked and twisted pushing Chad away. I pulled 
my hand away so he would not catch us, but his eyes 
were glued to my wife. Barbara was frantically pulling 
her blouse and bra over her head. Chad helped her pull 
it off and then quickly bent to kiss her now naked 
breasts. Barbara gasped at the touch of his lips on her 
hard, aching nipples and hugged his head to her breasts 
for a moment and then pushed him away again.

Her fingers clawed at his belt and then his zipper. 
Chad undid the button and then helped her tug his pants 
down. In the cramped backseat, he struggled. Then he 
pulled away, getting his legs under him and then 
leaning forward over Barbara to straighten his waist. 
That allowed her to work his pants down another inch or 
two, enough to free his hot, hard penis. His head was 
now over the rear seatback and when his penis sprang 
free it bobbed just inches from Barbara's lips.

Now it was Chad who was groaning with delight as 
Barbara devoured him. I sneaked a quick glance and 
could see her holding his long, thick penis with one 
hand at its base as her head bobbed vigorously along 
its length.

"Oh, God," he cried out. "Oh, God, I'm going to cum."

He struggled to pull himself back but he could not free 
himself from her grip.

"No, not yet," he pleaded. "Please."

But in this position, he was powerless to stop Barbara 
and she continued relentlessly, sucking greedily as his 
penis throbbed in her hand and in her mouth.

He was whimpering now, teetering on the verge of an 
explosion.

And then she stopped and let out a small giggle. She 
loved to torture me like that, bringing me oh-so-close 
and then backing off. As Chad slipped back from the 
brink, he relaxed and let out a deep sigh of relief. 
Within an instant, Barbara's tongue flicked out again 
and covered the purple head of his penis.

Again Chad tensed and whimpered. Barbara let out 
another small laugh. She was torturing him and she was 
delighted.

The crunch of the Acura's tires on the gravel driveway 
was Chad's reprieve.

"Are we home already?" Barbara asked, releasing Chad 
and struggling to sit up so she could see for herself.

"Yes," I answered as I pulled up the long, dark 
driveway to our small wood frame house. A small light 
illuminated the porch and front door, but the yard and 
driveway were pitch black.

Barbara jumped out, clutching her blouse and jacket to 
her bare breasts with one hand and working the seat 
release with the other to free Chad from the back seat. 
With his pants around his knees he floundered then 
finally crawled out head first, dragging his legs 
behind him. Barbara helped him to his feet and he 
tugged his pants up but didn't bother with the zipper 
or button.

"Hurry, Stan," Barbara urged as I fumbled with the key.

When the door swung open, Barbara brushed past me 
pulling Chad behind her. She tossed her jacket and 
blouse on the couch as she dragged Chad along, heading 
straight for our bedroom.

I closed and locked the door and extinguished the porch 
light, and then picked up her blouse and jacket and 
hung them on the knob of the closet door. I could 
already hear the dull sounds of the bed flexing with 
their motions.

"Hurry, Chad," Barbara begged. "I can't wait anymore. I 
want you inside me."

And then an exultant shout of joy.

"Yesss, yesss. Oh, Jesus. Yesss!"

By the time I reached the bedroom door, Chad had 
mounted my wife and had filled her with his penis. Her 
legs were splayed wide to accept him and her heels were 
wrapped behind his thighs, trapping him and urging him 
deeper though he needed no encouragement. The foreplay 
was definitely over.

He fucked my wife with the long, powerful strokes of a 
man driving for release. Barbara responded with shrieks 
of delight and screams of passion. Her words were no 
longer intelligible as she spoke only the language of 
mounting lust.

Her fingers raked his back and grasped at his buttocks, 
pulling him deeper into her as she bucked to meet his 
every thrust.

Chad pushed himself up and worked her legs over his 
shoulders, opening her completely to his penis which 
now drove still deeper inside her as she whimpered and 
cried out, face clenched in passion, head tossing from 
side to side in unbridled desire.

Then with one hand he grabbed both her hands and pinned 
them to the bed over her head. She was helpless and she 
loved it. It didn't seem possible that she could find a 
still higher level, but she did, teetering on the edge 
of orgasm as he pounded still faster, still harder.

The sight and sound of Barbara's rapture made my head 
spin and I leaned against the doorframe to catch my 
balance. My penis throbbed and ached, and I could not 
believe the lust that had arisen in me at the sight of 
my wife being ravished by Chad. I reached down to 
stroke myself through my trousers.

Then Barbara screamed.

"NNNNGGHHHH! AHHHHHHH!"

Her body heaved and bucked beneath Chad trying to pull 
him deeper and more completely into herself as waves of 
pleasure coursed through her writhing body.

"OH, GOD, DON'T STOP," she cried out. "Yes. Yes. Yes!"

Then Chad tensed and drove himself into her deeper and 
harder than before. He threw his head back and let out 
a guttural roar as he stiffened and ground his penis 
deep inside my wife.

That's when my own orgasm exploded. My testicles 
churned sending gush after gush of semen through my 
quivering penis filling my underwear. A large dark 
stain grew rapidly on the crotch of my trousers. But I 
didn't care.

When I recovered, Chad had collapsed onto Barbara, her 
hands still pinned over her head, her legs now lying 
limp along his sides. They puffed with exhaustion. Then 
Barbara freed her hands and cupped his face in them. As 
she looked into Chad's eyes and asked him: "How did you 
do that? I've never felt anything like that in my 
life?"

I quietly stepped back from the door and thought to 
myself, "I had better get some rest; tomorrow isn't 
going to be the quiet day we planned."

END

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 34